


Inbar

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Fireside Tales [152]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, GFY, Gen, Gender Identity, Grief/Mourning, Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have no intention of allowing the healers to dictate how I spend my days, though I will grant them I am not able to conduct the business of Steward from my office."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inbar

**Author's Note:**

> Denethor, after the destruction of the One Ring  
> Prompt: Victory  
> Alternate Universe: Agnu Ra Nutû

Denethor draws a deep breath as he looks out over the trampled and blood-sodden fields of the Pelannor, his hands closing convulsively on the frame of his window. He can feel the bandages that still swathe him from shoulder to hip, binding cracked ribs and a wound that will be tender and ache for months. The healers would prefer he remained in the Houses of Healing, or, barring that, in his bed, but he finds it hard to remain there when so much has yet to be done.

So much, and so little he will be allowed, though much of that because he is injured rather than because it is known more widely - and no doubt, will be known through out Minas Tirith itself before too much longer, if it is not already - that his body is that of a woman rather than the man he is. Even though his servants do not speak of his being in a female body, the healers are not always so circumspect in their sharing of gossip, nor are their assistants.

A knock at the door makes his take another breath, contemplating making a hasty return to his bed as not to endure the scolding of the healers, but dismissing it in the end. He will not cower like a frightened child.

"Come in." He turns, holding tightly to the window sill with one hand, keeping himself upright with a force of will.

Faramir looks first to the chairs near the hearth, then around the room until he rests his gaze on Denethor, a small smile coming to his face, though it swiftly fades. "Are you meant to be out of your bed yet, father?"

The faint emphasis on the final word is a reassurance that Denethor hadn't been quite aware he needed, and he feels his shoulders sag slightly, before he straightens again. It wouldn't do to fall over just because he is glad to hear his son still thinks of him as father, no matter that he has no ability to sire children of his own blood.

"I have no intention of allowing the healers to dictate how I spend my days, though I will grant them I am not able to conduct the business of Steward from my office." Denethor waits a moment before he lets go of the windowsill, making his slow way to the chairs near the hearth that he and Faramir have spent hours in discussing lessons, reports, and decisions.

Faramir smiles again, though the chuckle Denethor might expect is missing. He waits until Denethor is sitting before settling in his usual chair, toying almost absently with a small bundle.

"What is in there?" Denethor doubts it is anything good, and he cannot help but fear what it may be.

"It was brought back with the hobbit by the eagles. Samwise is his name, he is with the healers for now." Faramir looks down at the wrapped bundle, a frown creasing his face for a long moment before he carefully unwraps it, laying in bare on his knees for Denethor to see. Boromir's horn, the strap snapped and the whole of it smeared with dirt and soot. "He wasn't very clear about how Boromir died, only that it was with honor, and that he could not save him."

Denethor barely hears what Faramir says after unwrapping the horn, his blood roaring in his ears. He reaches out a hand to take the horn, fumbling it because he cannot seem to cease shaking. Faramir steadies him, making sure he has Boromir's horn safely in his grip before drawing back.

"I would see him, when he is well enough to be brought here." His voice sounds higher than it has in years, strained and thin like a too-tight drumhead. "I would hear how Boromir died."

His son, his warrior-prince, the defender of Gondor and her Captain-General. Not the one Denethor had ever hoped would be Steward, but still a vital part, he had always thought, of Gondor's future. Stripped away by the Shadow, and leaving the world less bright for it.

Faramir draws his attention away from the horn, kneeling next to Denethor's chair. Watching him with an expression that mixes concern with a grief as raw as Denethor's own. Sharing in his sorrow as they had shared the same when Finduilas died so terribly young.

**Author's Note:**

> Boromir's death is later than in canon, but his death still serves a purpose, particularly since Gollum isn't alive to play his role in the destruction of the One Ring. That Frodo has died as well is in part a consequence of how the Ring is destroyed and in part because I've generally shifted the deaths rather than saved people outright. Sam still lives, because someone has to tell the story, all the way to the end.
> 
> This does mean that someone other than Frodo would write the adventures with the Ring down for the Red Book of Westmarch, if the stories indeed are included in that book, rather than merely written in other chronicles.
> 
> Title means "horn".


End file.
